The Massacre & The Masochist
by Desenchanter
Summary: Kagome's a Curse. She can become whoever you want her to be, but no one can ever see who she really is. Every Curse has an expiration date, and hers is coming. Soon. Without a cure, she'll perish on her 18th birthday. Salvation finds her in the form of the man she fears most—the only man who can really see her. A golden-eyed beast she finds herself dangerously attracted to. AU.
1. They Come At Night

**CHAPTER ONE**

_They Come At Night_

* * *

They come at night. The Collectors of Curses always stalk in pairs. No matter where I go, they follow. My Blight has it's advantages, but when it comes to the Collectors, it's nothing but a disadvantage.

What they want the most is to see a Curse. When they look at me, that's exactly what they see. I run down the alley, through the squashed together brick buildings to the back street. If I could sprout wings and fly like them, I might have a chance — but now, here, uncovered and exposed, I'm doomed.

The sad part is, I only have a month left. One more month to live before my Curse expires — and my body with it. I thought I could avoid them until the end.

I thought wrong.

Monstrous wings slice through the air, sending a burst toward me. Goosebumps form on my exposed back. Don't look back. _Don't look back_. That's how they get you. Those white eyes will be the end of me.

I kick my red heels off, like I should've a block back. The gritty gravel digs into my skin, glass cuts the sole of my feet.

No, no, no — not yet. _Not _yet. I would take death, the natural Curse way, to have my time expire, my body wither, and turn to dust the dawn of my last day. The Collectors won't allow that. They'll make me into one of their immortal, soulless, dolls.

Something shoots through the air from behind me. And I know, I _know_ from the whooshing the string makes as it comes toward me — I know they're going to get me.

Black thread loops around my neck. I'm jerked off the ground, sent flying backwards. I reach my hands out in front of me as I fall to my back, trying to grab on to something — _anything_ — that will save me. My skin breaks against the broken bottles. Warm blood seeps into my green dress.

I gasp in for air, but the threads crushing my throat. I can't breathe. This is it — this is really _it. _My blood's smeared on the pavement as they drag me back toward them. I hear the click of the Collector's claws as they land on the ground. The thud of their heavy bodies.

My eyes shoot to the sky. It's still as black and empty as ever. There's no hope. The sun won't rise in time to banish them from this world.

Three long, curled fingers wrap around my throat. It pulls me to my feet and against its cold, bare chest. The Collector's gray, dried skin soaks in my blood, wearing it like war paint.

"Got'cha," it wheezes in my ear.

Silver flashes in the corner of my eyes. A Collector shrieks, white goo splashes against the pavement as it falls into two pieces.

That's a first.

White sprays out from behind me. The thread loosens, I suck in air as I fall to my knees. Grabbing my neck, I turn to see the Collector's head roll on the ground. I have never — in all my life — seen a Collector die. I've never even heard it was _possible _to kill one. But here I am, staring at two of them dead.

Silver glows again. I look up from the head to see someone standing there with a massive sword. This is not good. Someone who can kill a Collector is not someone I want to be around.

Let my Curse work on them. Let them be looking for something good, not just another thing they'd want to kill.

Then I see his golden eyes.

Oh no. No. No. _No_. Not him.

"Leave me alone!" I say. My voice cracks. I slide back, pushing through the pain of all my cuts and stand. My eyes search for anything to defend myself. There's a wooden plank beside a trash can. I lunge for it, grab it, and hold it out between me and the Beast. "Stay away!"

A cocky smile slips up his lips as his eyes take in the plank. He lifts his sword just a little, just enough to let the light from the window's gleam off it again. Saying _your plank against a _**_sword_**_? Really_ without words. My stomach lurches. Shit, shit, shit — first the Collectors now _this_. The Beast.

The one who killed my family. A slayer of Curses.

_"Run, Kagome, run!_" I can hear my mom say, screaming until her voice broke. But, I know, it wasn't her voice that broke. It was her neck, as the Beast sliced through it. I had looked back just in time to see her blood fly through the air and head drop against the street.

Dad was next … then Souta, my precious brother. So little and perfect, a human not a Curse. Why didn't I grab him before I ran? _Why_? I should've — how could I have been so thoughtless?

And now he's here. The Beast. He found me.

One month, why couldn't I have had just one more month?

I wonder what I look like to this monster. Am I beautiful? Repugnant? Tall, short? White, tan, black? Do I have skin or scales?

"I can see you," he says.

"Stay. Away." I repeat as I hold out the blank a little farther, pointed at his chest. I'm not a weakling. I'm _not_ going out without a fight.

"Can you?" he asks.

He takes a step closer. I take one away. My back presses against the trash can.

"You have a Changeling Blight, don't you? That's a rare curse. Have you ever seen yourself?"

"Stop talking to me, you monster!" I say and throw the plank at him with all my strength. I know it'll do nothing, but I want him to hurt — _hurt_ like I do, just seeing him. Remembering that night. Dad knew what he was when he came to the door. He tried to save us, to keep him out, but … but ….

He doesn't move. He lets the plank bounce off him. His golden eyes are hard. So intense that I think — just for an impossible moment — that he can _really_ see me. But that's not possible. No one can ever see me. I can't even see me.

"What are you doing to that girl?!" Someone says from behind me.

He looks to the voice, I take the chance to run. There's a group of men at the end of the street. They see my blood and take their weapons to arms.

"Did that beast do this to you, beautiful?" One of them asks.

I'm thankful — _so_ thankful — that these guys are looking to be heroes. That they're looking for a beautiful damsel in distress, and not something to hunt. I nod vigorously as I slide behind them. They're just humans, they can't fight the golden eyed, silver haired devil but they _can_ distract him long enough for me to get away.

Like my family did….

They charge at the Beast.

I run the other way.


	2. Make A Deal

_**A.N.: **Thank you for all the reviews and the warm welcome back! I really appreciate all of them! I've missed writing fanfiction and when I got this idea, I thought it'd be perfect. Plus, the new updates to this website's really interesting. Hope you continue to enjoy the story and review :) _

_I'm going through and revising some of my old work (wow, I used a lot of adverbs ... and alt words for said ... and run-on sentences, yikes). Maybe I'll be able to finish up a few of the incomplete stories I have on here too. _

_**Again, thank you for reviewing!** _

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Make A Deal_

* * *

There's too much night left to stay out. I have to find somewhere to hide until day breaks. I look like a bloody mess, but who ever goes looking for that? I go into the first saloon I find. No man inside it, this late at night, will be looking for anything but a willing companion — a beautiful one, at that. Blood smears on the ground from the cuts in my feet, but no one says anything about it.

Like so many times before, I wonder what I look like to these fools. From the way they're drooling, I must be beautiful. There are two dozen men here, so I set my sights on the best dressed one. He's in a three piece suit, examining his golden pocket watch. If he wants me to notice the diamond in the center of it, it worked.

"Hello," I say. A smile slides up my lips.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks. His mustache blocks his lips, but I know he's smiling. Out of all the men in the bar, I chose him. He motions to the open stool beside him.

"No." I step closer and place my hand on his thigh. "I'd like a drink, but not here."

For a second, he looks dumbfounded, then a gleam shoots across his eyes. Yes, stupid man, I'm asking you to take me home. He pays his tab and summons a carriage. It's one of the nicer ones I've seen with velvet interior, black polished wood on the outside. His horses are beautiful; one's white with a black diamond on its nose and the other is all midnight black. When we get in, I draw the curtains so no one can see me.

I don't let him touch me on the ride back. I giggle, slap his hand, flirt — tease him to make him want it more. When we get to his, I ask for a drink. Inside my bag, there's a small vile of a sleeping potion. It's potent enough to knock him out for an entire day. I put a drop into his drink when he's not looking and cheers him.

I down the chardonnay in one go. He falls to the ground, breaking his glass, before he's done with his first sip.

"Looks like you aren't so lucky after all," I say as I nudge his body with my feet. He doesn't budge. I draw the curtains in every room and use the gaslights. All I have to do is make it until morning then get to the next town. The Collectors won't know I was in here, the monster killed them.

I wonder if he killed those townsmen too. Was it wrong of me to leave them? To let them think they can take on such a Beast?

_It's not your problem. They should've known better. Everyone knows better than to confront a creature with golden eyes. _

Mr. Sleepy has a very nice house and probably a few servants, but they're either sleeping or downstairs. I gather cleaning supplies and go into the restroom to patch up my wounds. There's shards of glass in my feet and gravel in my back, which makes me lucky. Very lucky. After facing the Collectors, I should be taken.

When I look at my back in the mirror, to help me find all the cuts, there's just tattered gray skin. Gray, disgusting skin just like the Collectors. My face is blank, like an unfinished doll. I have no hair. I want to believe this isn't what I really look like … that there's a real me, somewhere inside, that's not hideous.

But … I'm a Curse. How could I ever be anything but disgusting?

I shouldn't have been born like this. I shouldn't have been born at all. It was said I would die in the womb. My mom couldn't stand the thought. For so long my parents wanted children, but each time they tried the same thing happened: they could conceive, and yet always lose the child before it was born. Mom couldn't take it happening again … so she did something awful to save me — she made a deal.

With _Him. _

It was for me, I know, but it was idiotic. He never gives without taking something. When I came into this world, it all seemed normal. Perfect, even. Mom saw everything she ever wanted — a healthy daughter. Dad ruined that momentary joy, because he saw a strong boy.

He gave me life, but as a Curse. Not as a human. Every Curse's a blight to their family. If I am a Curse, then my family must be to blame, naturally. That's how the world sees it.

And that family had to die.

My whole town burned, because I was there. I don't know if it's ironic or just pathetic that I'm the only one that got away. And the only reason it happened.

I finish dressing my wounds and find an open bed to rest in. Sleeping doesn't come easily, but I need a little of it so I force myself. When dawn breaks, I wake and steal one of the man's dress shirts. It's long enough to use as a dress and with a belt I can make it look decent, not that it matters. The housekeepers are moving around downstairs, getting breakfast ready. None raise an eyebrow when they see me. It appears it's just another normal day to find a random woman in the morning.

It's not very nice, but … I nab one of their boats and a jacket then leave.

I don't get any farther than a block before _he_ steps out in front of me. My heart shrivels up in my chest, just like my throat. I can't breathe. I trip back until I hit the wall.

In the day, he looks different. His hair is black, his ears human, but his eyes are still gold. I'd know those eyes anywhere. He grins. "Didn't think those guys could actually take me, did you, Changeling?"

"St-stay away! I'll scream."

"Don't," he says sharply. He closes the gap between us, placing his hand over my mouth. "Just listen. I need your help."

Hate ignites in me, burning me up like lava — melting away my mind, my fear. I knee him in the stomach. He gasps. I push him away, but don't run. Not this time.

"How _dare_ you?" I shout. "You killed my family and you want my help!? You're a _Beast_ — a vile creation of a blasphemous union. I may be a Curse, but that's ten times better than what _you_ are."

His hard golden stare shifts to me. Locking on, scorching its way into my soul. I won't back down. Not now.

"I want you _dead_. If I could find a way to do it myself, I would. I hope whatever trouble you're in will end in your painful demise."

There's sizzling silence between us. I'm surprised he doesn't take out his sword and slice me in half right now. Beasts never care about when they commit their crimes.

"I didn't kill your family," he says slowly. "I get why you'd think I did — but I didn't."

"I _saw_ you," I say. My voice shakes, there's an ache in me that's shaking my whole being. Standing here, now, staring at this monster is killing me. I could take my belt off and try to strangle him—

"A Curse killed your village. One with the Changeling Blight, just like you."

I snicker at the thought. "Right, and I just so happened to see _you_ — a Beast I've never laid eyes on before. Why? Why would I want to see that?"

"He's a Curse, but he has control over his Blight. He can change into whatever form he wants."

"Why yours?" I take a step back, slowly bringing my hand to my belt. I try to work at the buckle without drawing his attention.

"He has a vendetta against me. Your village wasn't the first he did that at. Everywhere I go … I'm blamed for those crimes. I _didn't_ do them. I wouldn't."

"You're a _Beast_! You kill Curses—"

"Yeah," he snaps. "I do. But I don't kill humans and I sure as hell don't kill entire villages. That's called a massacre. There's no reason to do that for just one Curse."

The buckle comes undone. I whip my belt off and rush him. But I can't get it around his neck, he grabs my arms and pushes me between the house and another. He pins me against the wall. My wrists ache, he's holding me too tight.

"_Listen_," he orders. "I don't want to hurt you. We can help each other out, Changeling. You're one of the few people still alive who saw him. You're also a Changeling. I could use you to find him."

I swallow and try to break my wrist free. He only holds me tighter. "How will that help _me_?"

"Don't you want to get your revenge?"

"If I believed you, maybe."

His eyes search mine. "You have, what, a month?"

I press my back against the wall more. Has the Beast done that much research on me? Does he know my eighteenth birthday is my end date? "Ho-How do you know?"

"Your scent." He lets my wrist go. "Here's another added bonus to finding him — a cure. Have you ever heard of a fifty-year-old Curse?"

"That's not possible."

"This Changeling's that old. He's also gain control of his Curse. He knows how to beat the system. We find him, we find a way for you to live. A way for you to take _control_."

Never in all my life have I thought … that I could _ever_ take control of my life. Of my Blight. Of anything.

If … if he's telling the truth … No. I can't be stupid. It's too good to be true.

"You're lying," I whisper.

"I've protected you," he counters, taking a step away to give me space. "Killing Curses is what I do, but I saved you from the Collectors last night. You owe me. I'll take on a lot of heat for doing that."

There's a quiver in my gut. _Control_. Collectors. The words circle in my head until they collide and mean nothing.

"They'll find you again. Once Collectors have a scent, they never let it go. Those two couldn't be the only Collectors you've ever come across. You need protection. I can give you that. Just help me find the Changeling. It's a win-win situation for both of us."

Everything — _everything_ — in me tells me to say no. To run from him and his lies. But … one month. That's all I have. And when you have so little, is it really that much of a risk?

"Okay … Okay. I'll help you."

His smile gives me chills. "My name's Inuyasha. You're Kagome, right?"

My knees are weak, I think I'm going to fall. I just made a deal with the devil, and he already knows my name.

* * *

**For updates on what I'm revising and what I've updated (or working on update) along with general fangirlling over the IY fandom (and maybe a little Sherlock, Doctor Who, & Hannibal) check out my tumblr: thedisenchantedwrite . tumblr . com. You can find a link on my profile :)**


	3. Kidnapped By A Curse

**CHAPTER THREE**

_Kidnapped By A Curse_

* * *

The devil has money. Enough to rent a carriage to take us out of town. A nice one, at that. One that's big and cool on the inside, with comfortable, cushioned seats, and curtains drawn to block out prying eyes. It makes me highly uncomfortable to be in any closed space with him. I'm as far away from him as possible — on the opposite seat, sitting to the far left with the corner to my back.

I keep my eyes fixed on him. The Beast with black hair and gold eyes. How do they change? Is it by will? Could I one day be like that? Changing between who I really am and who everyone else sees?

Am I really a gray, hairless, wrinkled monster?

No. Not important. The Beast is in front of me, I have to watch him. Keep my guard up.

It's a long while before he finally looks at me. His face is blank, but I don't like the way his golden gaze washes over me. Like he's sizing me up, deciding how easy it would be end me here and now, as he should. Beasts were only created to kill Curses.

He asks, "Do you know what advantage I have as a Beast?"

"Being an immortal abomination?"

"Abomination," he says with a grin. "You use such big words for a girl who's been running away all her life."

"I'm an autodidact."

His black brows squint together as confusion clouds his eyes.

I want to smile, to gloat that I know something he doesn't, but I wouldn't dare. "Autodidact: A person who has learned a subject without the benefit of a teacher or formal education. A self-taught person."

"Do you read a dictionary for fun?"

I shrug. Yes would just make him smirk. Though … a few times I have. How else am I to learn? Sometimes I have to act as if I were from high society to get away with the way I look to some men. My Blight might change my appearance, but not who I am on the inside. I didn't want to get by on just my looks. And … running, keeping a safe distance from people, it's a lonely way that often leaves me plenty of solitude time. A time I fill with whatever books I can find.

"That's not what I was getting at," he says, drawing me back to the moment. I've forgotten what we were talking about. So I wait until he elaborates. "As a Beast, most Blights don't work on me. The Changeling one doesn't. I can see what you look like."

It sickens me to think whenever he looks at me, all he sees is the gray. I clench my hands on my cushion seat and take deep breathes to calm my stomach.

"What you'd look like if you were born human," he says.

"What?"

"You have hazel eyes, with green flecks in them. Wavy black hair. A nice face, but not beautiful or plain either. Normal."

He just described my mother — wait, no, he also described a lot people. "What makes you think that's not just what _you_ want to see?"

"If I could see anyone I want when I look at you," he pauses, looks away, "then you'd look like someone else. Someone I used to know. Not a plain, unremarkable girl."

Ouch. Plain and unremarkable still beats gray, leather skin like the Collectors. I want to say he's not remarkable either, but instead I look away too and let silence fall for the rest of our journey.

* * *

The Beast rents two hotel rooms that evening. I'm glad I won't have to spend the night within the same room as him. When we get to our floor, he blocks my door before I can enter. Nightfall's coming very soon. It'd be better to be in my room than have to watch him transform. Looking at his gold eyes — the last eyes my family ever saw before being slaughtered — is hard enough. I don't need to see his silver hair, claws, fangs, or ridiculous dog ears.

_Ridiculous_. But they hint to his other form. I believe every Beast's _true_ form is not the human one they take on, but the monstrous form they hide. His other form might be a murderous, giant, white dog. Or maybe a wolf. Or whatever his idiotic ears are.

"If you run, I'll catch you," he says. "I'll hear you as soon as you leave your room. I'll follow your scent. You won't get far."

"Why would I run?"

He doesn't answer. He just narrows his eyes on me then retires to his chamber. I do the same. I wasted one day traveling. One day were I learned nothing new. The Beast didn't tell me how we could find this Changeling — if it even exists, which I don't fully believe — or how we would get it to tell me how to take control of my Blight like it did. How I could … live.

Twenty-nine days. In twenty-nine days I will be dead. In no time, my body will start to wither. I'll grow weak … then weaker … and weaker. Do I really have time to waste like this? No. I certainly don't.

I gather whatever courage I have and march out of my room. Before I even knock, the Beast opens the door. A look of annoyance on his face, but that's not what takes me by surprise — it's how he's changed. He looks like … the _real_ Beat. Silver hair, claws, fangs, and those ridiculous ears.

"What?" he grunts.

It takes a second for me to remember what I wanted to say. "I don't have all the time in the world, as you know, so why are we wasting it? How are we going to find this other Curse? How are we going to get him to tell me how to take control of my Blight?"

"I'm tired, Curse, I want to sleep. Tomorrow we'll start the hunt. I know he was here recently, it'll work."

I shake my head. Someone brushes by me, catching me off guard. I jump into the Beast as I glance back to the violet eyed man who apologizes and continues down the hallway. Once he's out of sight, I realize how close I am. How the Beast smells of spice and the wilderness. I back away, slowly.

"Nothing's going to happen to you," he says. "I'll know if a Collector is near before it can get to you. Don't worry."

Did I look that scared? I can't show weakness in front of this creature. He can't have the upper hand. But … am I delusional to think that I could ever have an advantage here? I don't even know how I can help find the other Changeling.

"Not good enough. I don't—"

"Go to sleep," he says before shutting the door.

_Jerk._ Huge, huge jerk. He just gave me a reason to hate him — aside from the fact he killed my family. Or might have. I'm not an idiot; I don't believe him. He's proven nothing to me. He's probably lying about this whole … Curse cure.

_I'm going to die._

Downstairs there's a bar. It's takes no time for a man to offer to buy me a drink. I'm happy about drinking. And drinking. And ignoring whatever the silly man is saying. He has problems, but mine are worse.

It's said no Curse truly dies. Our souls are taken and given to Him, so He can do as He pleases with them. That we'll forever serve Him. Slaves for all of eternity. Until He decides to send us back to this realm, to live another life as a Curse. A never ending cycle of reincarnation. Stuck forever in a cursed existence. For humans, death can be a release from pain and poverty. They have a chance to go somewhere nice, if they behave.

I've behaved my whole life. I've never really stolen — well, except for the coat and boots I took from the house maids earlier — and I have never killed. Not myself, at least. It could be argued, probably successfully, that I'm the reason my whole village was massacred. Their blood covers me and my soul, weighing me down.

Down, down, down … to where He is.

"What are you doing?" the Beast asks. He grabs my left arm and yanks me away from my third glass of wine. He has a hat on to cover his ears and most of his silver hair up beneath it.

"Let go," I demand as I yank my arm away, but fail.

"I told you to go to your room."

"You don't control me," I retort.

"How am I supposed to sleep when you might run off? Or get caught?"

"Let go!"

"The lovely lady said _let go_," the man I had been drinking with says as he steps in. This will not end well for him, but another gentlemen joins his side — a friend, I suppose. It does get the Beast to let go. I slip away in the chaos that follows. Bottles crash, humans get pushed over the countertop.

Someone grabs my arm and places a hand over my lips. I'm pulled out of the bar through the back and into a dark alley. What's going on?

I try to scream, but it's muffled. I can still hear the skirmish inside. Can the Beast hear me? Do I want him to?

A Collector wouldn't find me like this.

Which means … human. Human man, in a dark alley — no, no, _no_! I can't have that happen again. No, no. Please no. _Please_.

There's a carriage waiting for us. I'm pulled into it. The doors closed. The windows are cover — I can't see. _No, no, no_. It starts to move.

But the hand leaves my lips.

I push away from my capture and push against the cushioned seats.

"Who's there?" I whisper, trying my best to sound brave. I fail. I reach, slowly, for my shoes. If I slip them off, I can jam my heel into him. It'll give me time to escape.

"Don't fret, my lady," the other says in a soothe voice. "You seemed to be in distress, so I thought I'd remove you from the situation. That Beast wanted you."

"What? You're supposed to be my knight?" I get my shoe off. "Who _are_ you?"

"A fellow Curse," he says.

The air leaves the carriage. We're moving, but not too terribly fast. I could still leap out. Curses are bad. The other Curses have Blights that are more deadly — Blights that _demand_ the death of those around them. I reach for the door handle, but fumble through the darkness. I hold my shoe tighter, just waiting for him to try to come closer. Another hand grabs mine, but it's clothed and has something cold and in marble shapes. Lots, like they're all on a string.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but I can't allow you to leave."

"Why?"

"The Beast will come for you, won't he?"

I don't know why I pause, but I do. "Yes."

"Then there you have it. I need you to lure him to me. In a place I have an advantage."

"Why do you care?"

"I'm going to kill the Beast, of course. Abominations such as he shouldn't exist."

_Neither should we_. I'd hit his hand with my shoe now, if it weren't so dark. I might hurt myself instead. "Beasts are immortal. You can't kill one."

"It can be done," he says as he pushes my hand away from the door. I hear beads click together. "I've done it."

He was bluffing. It … wasn't possible. Was it? Then again, if you had asked me yesterday if it were possible to kill a Collector, I'd have said no. The Beast provided that theory wrong. So … maybe?

"How?" I ask, in a hush. I lean toward the man I can't see, as if we are sharing a secret.

The carriage stops — he didn't tell me anything. Instead, he gets up, opens the door, steps down, and holds his hand out to help me. For the first time, I get a good look at the man.

His noble, suit-like outfit is purple and black, which matches the rest of him. His hair is black, just long enough to pull back behind his head. And his eyes … they're how I know he's telling the truth. That he's a Curse. A human would never have such odd colored eyes — purple, like an eggplant.

There's this saying — or proverb? Or something — about Curses.

When two Curses meet, only one walks away.

I have a feeling … if that holds true, I won't be the one doing the walking.

* * *

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